


Howl

by masterofstars



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Domestic Fluff, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Sub Dave's Bro | Beta Dirk Strider, dom grandpa harley, werewolf bro strider
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-14 01:29:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13583139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterofstars/pseuds/masterofstars
Summary: Nothing could come close to the feeling of home from low yellow light, dimly lighting a room of deep mahogany wood, the scent of spice seemingly drifting off the wood and settling in the air. Somewhere far off the sound of metal, light clinks of metal and porcelain hitting each other in the way that can only be produced by idle hands cooking, going on years of habitual movement. But it’s distant. Much closer is the light whir of wind against panes of glass. Creaking gently in their frames but holding up to the onslaught of weather. Most importantly - warmth. Warmth in the form of a deep, gravelly voice and a hand stroking through thick fur.





	1. Chapter 1

The first thing that truly resonated with him was the pain. It was sharp - a punch to the gut that turned into a sharp twist of a knife and only got worse from there. No one ever would have thought someone could survive the sound of marrow breaking with the reshaping of each bone, let alone the feeling that came along with it. No one ever should have had to. It wasn’t natural. One could say the phenomenon was supernatural. As were the urges that came along with it. Losing yourself in primal thought and restless energy was tempting when every thought that was somewhat coherently human was hazy at best. The first night alone on the outskirts of a farmer’s wheat field was bad enough to have Bro Strider thinking that it was the worst night of his life. 

The only lucky part of the situation was how incredibly easy it was for a young, dead-end almost-adult to escape a small Podunk town in the middle of assfuck nowhere Texas. Walking the highway equipped with a backpack full of hastily stolen food and what little belongings he had, his thickest hoodie, and a pay-as-you-go phone wasn’t exactly uncommon. There was no suspicion from the semi-trucks and vacationing SUVs that passed him, nor from the one trucker that stopped. 

It worked well for a few months. Getting by on a few bucks here and there and the kindness of strangers was a miserable existence but it was at the very least an existence. It was staying alive in the best way he could think of and that was enough for the time being. Southern states were good and simple. Most of the time the hoodie was too much to bear wearing, and the heat made for less eating and more downing as much water and Gatorade as possible. 

The northern states were when it got complicated. 

The cold was mind numbing. And face numbing, finger numbing, feet numbing. Numbing to the core. Being gracious for even the thinnest pair of gloves or hat was ridiculous but necessary when it came to the thick, heavy snowfall that awaited him at each pit stop. His patchy jeans couldn’t withstand the winds that whipped through the air, and the favored pair of worn out black converse didn’t last even a week in the inches upon inches of snow that piled up in the edges of boreal forest wilderness. Food went fast and water froze overnight even inside the confines of lumber and delivery trucks. Frostbite had never been in Bro’s vocabulary but it quickly became a feared and painful word upon slightly blue lips. 

It didn’t make sense to stay the way he was. Logic told him to do it; every time his skin stung or frost started to creep up upon his blonde hair the same thoughts dragged through his head. It would hurt but it would keep him alive. It wasn’t the same as before. Maybe it would be strange to see an over-sized wolf so close to populated areas but not as blood curdling as spotting a wolf creeping in the Texan countryside. It was the safest bet. 

The backpack was ditched behind a gas station diner glowing blue and pink in the dead of the night. His breath curled in striking white swirls against the darkness surrounding him. The buzzing of the generators mixed with the quick beats pounding away inside of his chest, keeping count in his head to stop the anxiety building up in the pit of his stomach. There had been close calls all throughout the past months but he’d always been able to push it down. Survival demanded it. Shifting in sight of others, or in inappropriate environments could mean certain death if he wasn’t agonizingly careful about it. Moments of stress where he could feel his blood start to heat had become less and less frequent with the help of constant reminders running through his head. He had to make it. He had to find something. He couldn’t freak out. He had to make it. Even thinking about going back on his own rules made his skin prematurely crawl before the shift even began. Wrongness was written all over it. Safety was left back inside the fluorescent lights and Elvis songs trapped inside the tight confines of the diner. 

What better a place to let go of your humanity than the grungy backside of a restaurant where the smell of grease and sugar mingled with a sharp dose of gasoline? A few deep breaths passed through Bro’s lungs before he consciously let his control slip. Fear flooded through him first. Then waves of anxious energy. Uncertainty clouded his mind: he was making the wrong choices, he never should have left home, he was going insane, none of this was actually real. No. He wasn’t insane, this was happening and it wasn’t fair. A noise that wasn’t his own ripped from his throat as harsh indignation overcame him, dropping him to his knees with the force of it. 

The crack of his knees on the icy pavement was nothing compared to the oncoming storm of changes. Flesh giving way to the growth of soft creamy fur under a coarse undercoat, limbs bending in inhuman angles and settling back into new, proper place. The sound of fabric tearing would be covered perfectly by the loud hum of the machinery not a few feet away. The scraps left on the ground would no doubt be buried under snow by morning, possibly shoveled away into mounds to the sides of the parking lot. All traces of the monstrous form warping and writhing on the ground would be gone by the time the sun started to rise, and Bro would be gone, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is more of an epilogue than a first chapter but oh well :P 
> 
> follow me on tumblr? @brostriderplushrump


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frozen soil has a rare smell. Distinct like that of fresh rain or strong vanilla. The kind of scent that burns at the inside of your nose and stings in the still air of winter.

 

Frozen soil has a rare smell. Distinct like that of fresh rain or strong vanilla. The kind of scent that burns at the inside of your nose and stings in the still air of winter. Worse is the feeling under one's feet. Each step becomes pin pricks of cold as if stepping on upturned tacks as you go. Maybe at first your body temperature is warm enough to melt the violent frost underfoot, soften it into soggy dirt more reminiscent of hot summer days near chilly riverbanks. But it never stays for long enough to ease the pain. The next step recreates the experience all over again in a loop that never relinquishes relief. 

Only when all feeling creeps away does it subside. Pain leads the way for the growing tingles through limbs. Fingers and toes first, skin tinted pink then white, then purple to blue. You don’t have time to register the uncontrollable tremble of your lips or the unbearable chill cutting through the tips of your ears. Each movement is automatic - a human autopilot to try and keep going and hope, pray that you can find solace. 

By the time the body hits the ground there’s no conscious processing of it happening. Perhaps a lingering thought of need. Needing warmth, needing saving, needing just a bit longer. Maybe some recognition that it’s a horrible way to go. No comfort in the unforgiving forest floor or the eerie silence that comes with deep lavender skies of early morning. 

Nothing could come close to the feeling of home from low yellow light, dimly lighting a room of deep mahogany wood, the scent of spice seemingly drifting off the wood and settling in the air. Somewhere far off the sound of metal, light clinks of metal and porcelain hitting each other in the way that can only be produced by idle hands cooking, going on years of habitual movement. But it’s distant. Much closer is the light whir of wind against panes of glass. Creaking gently in their frames but holding up to the onslaught of weather. Most importantly - warmth. Warmth from all sides, in way of heavy, scratchy blankets made of material thick enough to withstand the electrical heat radiating through it. A small shift to make it possible to hear a surge of water contained within plastic, warm against the skin of his stomach. 

His eyelashes fluttered with a confused and coarse sound from his throat. The heaviness of his limbs from before is still present but it’s different. No longer weighed down by hypothermia sinking into his core, instead he was trapped under a plethora of blankets surrounding his body. His skin was raw but it was feeling, perfectly able to feel the way the fabrics dragged over his bare figure as he rolled over on the bed. 

It took a minute for Bro to really raise his head up and make his body follow. Every small shift made his muscles ache in protest, but curiosity always won over discomfort for him. With his hands laid in his lap atop the warm blankets, he took stock of the room around him. Just as he thought, the walls were wood. Not the fancy, glossy wood that he’d seen in country clubs and shady bars he had managed to weasel his way into in Texas. It was rough and unfinished but somehow fitting to the atmosphere. The bed was the biggest attribute to the room, overshadowing the small bedside table and the chest of drawers to the far side of the room. Even with the multitude of blankets on the bed, Bro could still spot another quilt folded a top the chest with the miscellaneous belongings. 

A quick glance to the window confirmed that it was still snowing. A thousand questions hung over Bro’s head while watching the fat snowflakes fall to the ground and into the trees. Where was he? Was he still close to the pit stop he remembered last? How far had he gotten? Whose cabin was this, and how much had they seen? Obviously not enough to warrant violence. There was pain but nothing to signal any external wounds. He’d had enough of those to know the difference. 

Even more important, what was he supposed to do now that he wasn’t lying unconscious in a stranger’s bed? 

The idea of going back to sleep and prolonging the inevitable was tempting but once more curiosity and anxiety clung to the edge of all his thoughts and left him yearning to know. His feet on the hardwood floor felt odd and the first attempt at standing left him on the edge of the bed, winded beyond belief. Smaller steps, baby steps. 

Once he was able to stand for a reasonable amount of time without any bouts of dizziness, the next logical course of action became clothes. His own were gone, that much he could gain even if he didn’t recall everything entirely. Amber eyes lingered on the chest of drawers before thinking better of it. Who knew how much leisure room he had here. Erring on the side of caution had served him well so far. Instead, he tugged a decent sized blanket from the bed and draped it around his shoulders, holding the front closed with one hand. 

Outside the door of the room waited a short hall that opened up into what had to be the main room of the cabin. Being quiet was the blonde’s specialty but it proved difficult with the creak of floorboards under even his light footfalls. He was slow to be able to take in all of the surroundings. The door to his right in the hall, the living room he was nearing and the space aside it that he couldn’t yet make out until he peeked around the corner. The open floor plan did nothing to hide him but it also did nothing to hide the other man, standing with his back to Bro in a small kitchen space. It was all warmly lit by the fireplace in the center of the wall, a couch and easy chair set up with a table full of books, candles, and nick-knacks that Bro couldn’t quite make out from so far away. A desk stood solo in the corner in an even messier state. More books, what seemed to be endless notebooks and loose-leaf spilling out from drawers and off the edges. And the kitchen, glowing light from both overhead bulb and the golden glow of the built-in wood burning stove, set in stone and giving off a rich woodsy scent. 

Bro barely got halfway through the living space before catching the blanket on the edge of a book and sending it to the floor. His own swear mixed with the thump of the softcover hitting the lay carpet, enough of a sound to catch the stranger’s attention.

“Heavens, boy. You’re awake! And out of bed, no less.”

Ironic as it was, Bro stared like a deer caught in the headlights as he was spoken to. 

The man in front of him had to be in his late forties, maybe mid-forties but that could be cutting it a close. There were signs of graying in the dark wave of hair and the stubble across his jaw, and his voice was rough in the way that only age could gift. A deep, gravelly sound that Bro could imagine made his chest vibrate with each word. Yet it was no less soft for it. The tone spoke volumes about the genuine concern the stranger held for him, and that alone made Bro’s stomach flutter with nerves. 

The man stepped closer towards Bro and on instinct he took the same step back, almost stumbling over clumsy feet. 

“Yeah,” Bro answered short and curt. 

The tone must have gotten through well, as everything came to a standstill. The stranger didn’t press forward and Bro didn’t move back again, letting the other think over his course of action. Everything told him to make a break for it, to trust his fight or flight response and not let this interaction go any further, but the idea of baring through the weather again kept him in place. “Well… I can’t say I’m not surprised. You’ve been out for a quick minute. I suspected you’d be down for a tad longer, it’s bloody baltic out there.” A click of the man’s tongue punctuated the statements, paired with a slight shake of his head as if in reprimand. 

How long did a quick minute entail? Bro rolled it over and thought about asking but changed his mind. There were much more pressing matters at hand. “Food?”

A bushy eyebrow was raised at the one-word question. “Food?” It was repeated back to him, to which Bro raised an arm and pointed behind the man, to the kitchen where he had assumed cooking had been taking place. 

“Oh! Oh, of course! Yes, you must be near starved. Come, sit down, anywhere you’d like.” As soon as the meaning was understood there was a flurry of movement. Bro inched forward to take a seat at the only table within the room, an old, sturdy wood thing that was most certainly handmade, sanded down and used to a soft smoothness that Bro gladly stroked his restless fingers over. Meanwhile the man hurried around the kitchen to finish up the meal and get some food into Bro’s stomach. Potatoes and vegetables, with a stew of grizzly meat that he couldn’t quite place but didn’t bother to ask about. 

It was a quiet length of time as Bro devoured the food in front of him under polite watch from the other, neither of them breaking the settled silence. Which Bro had to admit he was glad about. Both because of how he couldn’t bear to spare the time to talk while he was eating, and because he would have no idea how to talk about anything in the first place. There would be questions, he knew. He wouldn’t be able to get away with being barenaked, dying in the woods without at least some sort of explanation. He needed the time to think it all over and come up with something good.

Yet, the questions never came. The stranger ate his own dinner at a slower pace. Bro was asked whether he would like a second helping, to which he was warned to eat slower to not make himself sick. He was given a glass of water when he asked and given his space the entire time. 

By the time he was sitting curled in the blanket in front of a plate cleared twice over, his stomach full and warm, he had gotten through the entire thing without even a hint of questioning about who he was or what had happened. It somehow made things both better and worse for his nerves.

“Uh… you,” Bro started and ended up getting caught, having to stand over. “You found me?” 

Across the table the stranger nodded. “I did. You gave me a right fright. I’ve never seen someone such a shade of blue. In fact, I’ve never seen someone so far out here at all! Really threw me for a loop there, lad.”

So, he did get far. He turned that over for a second, buying his time with a quick nod.

“I’m just glad you’ve turned out alright. I wasn’t sure whether to drive you up and have you looked at, or just hope for the best here. Another day and I was going to take you to town,” To Bro’s surprise the man continued without need for Bro to reply. “I’d call it luck but that’d give you none of the credit! So young, and pardon the mention but so small, I was worried it’d nip you good. How old are you anyways?” 

There we go. Of course, he’d ask. Bro’s eyes glanced downwards towards the blanket he held between both hands, playing with the fabric under his fingers. “Seventeen.”

A low whistle came in reply. “A wee barra.” 

The slang was lost on Bro, and for the first time the blonde really took into account the slight lilt of the man’s accent. He’d never heard it in person before, but it was familiar. Irish possibly. Maybe Scottish. Still, he didn’t bother to ask, just let the conversation die out without a response. There were still questions unsaid left hanging in the air. A humongous elephant in the room that apparently neither of them were going to mention or work through. Or so Bro thought.

“You’ve been through quite the ordeal, so I’ll tell you what. No more questions. Whatever the case, whatever happened, you did a damn good job of making it through. No need to punish you with an interrogation.” Bro watched the other stand and take their dishes away from the table, so relaxed and so casual about the whole thing. He couldn’t stop his eyebrows from knitting together as his eyes followed. 

“So… I can stay here?” The blonde piped up over the sound of running water as the man started to wash the used dishes.

“Don’t be dippy, I’m not about to throw you back out into the snow,” A warm laugh came from the man as he spoke. “Of course, you can stay. The room is yours for all intents and purposes… I don’t believe I got your name.”

He paused. It couldn’t hurt to tell him. “Bro.”

A smile graced the man’s lips, giving Bro a quick glance. “Harley. Now, off to bed with you. You’ll wear yourself out if you’re up too much too soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'wee barra' scottish slang - an affectionate term for a younger person 
> 
> i think this is a good start for this fic. comments and kudos are might appreciated and motivating <3


	3. Chapter 3

 

Whether on purpose or on accident by grand design, Harley made himself scarce around the cabin for the next week. Upon waking the second time there had been the same light, awkward conversation over breakfast and the best coffee Bro had ever tasted, but after that each morning he was greeted by an empty home and a note written in messy, scribbled handwriting left on the kitchen counter.

‘At work, feel free to make whatever you’d like. Make yourself at home.’

Always some variation of the same message, always with the same welcoming tone seeping into the page of paper. How Harley managed to trust him alone, in his house, without any supervision after only knowing him two days, Bro would never understand. Yet the notes piled up on the counter all the same.

It didn’t take long for Bro to figure out the semi-constant schedule that Harley worked by. Early morning work that lasted through the afternoon left lots of time for exploration and rest for the teen. The old man was right about having to take naps and spend most of his time curled up on the couch for the first few days, so most of his snooping came later. There was no lack of entertainment, though. Bro wasn’t used to luxury, but usually he had at least had a television to flick through, as shitty as a tube television was. It had been a last ditch idea in a fit of boredom to pick up one of the books on the coffee table while bunched up in blankets on the couch - which had become one of his preferred places quickly. Far end of the leather couch, with the reddish-brown afghan blanket from Harley’s room to keep himself warm, with or without the fireplace lit.

The book took it’s time to hold his attention but once it did, he was hooked. The cover was blank and the pages were yellowed and thin from age, slightly torn or ridged along the edges on some pages, but they held more information that Bro had ever seen in all his day of high school before he dropped out. Not in the stark, boring static of textbooks but in flowery prose. That first evening when Harley came back from whatever it was he did for ‘work’ Bro had hardly given more than an acknowledging grunt to most of the things spoken in his direction. Only when dinner was once again made did Harley take the book from his hands by force and promise that he could continue after having something to eat.

By the time he was actually able to gather up the energy to get his fill of peeking around the cabin, he had built up a hearty stack of finished books on the floor beside the couch. It was a measly amount when up against the vast collection Harley seemed to have yet Bro was still pretty proud of it.

The rest of the cabin held the same attention-grabbing trait that the books had. With Harley gone off and Bro left out of sight, he let himself give into the need to literally stick his nose in everything. He finally got his paws on the nick-knacks that littered the main room; different types of foreign currency were scattered across the coffee table among the books, enough that Bro could have spent an entire day looking and establish each one’s home country.  The mantle carried a little wonderland of displays of mounted butterflies of every shape and color, bottles with labels half gone (irish honey, Corbey’s Reserve, lilas blanc, Old Tom Gin?), and a fur pelt hung to the side. Bro spent a small while debating whether it was coyote or some kind of bigger weasel or ferret type thing. He didn’t know nearly enough to make the determination, and the smell was faintly chemical from the tanning so trying to sniff it out was dismal. He could have sworn he spotted an ancient looking grenade collecting dust between books on one of the shelves along with what he could recognize as a buddhist statue, a lucky cat, and two separate variations of Russian nesting dolls. The rest was lost on his limited knowledge, but nonetheless hungrily taken in by amber eyes and careful fingers.

If Harley knew about how his days were spent or noticed his belongings ever slightly shifting, leaving evidence of their former status in way of rings and outlines of dust, the man never once mentioned it.

Only when Bro brought it up did the conversation ever take place.

 

It had taken a little over a week and a half for the comfort level to get to a place where Bro could sit with the other at ease. Dinner became more of a comfortable silence than a dreaded weight upon his shoulders and instead of spending evenings in the bedroom avoiding the other, he had started to drift out into the living room to take up residence in his spot and read. Harley never commented but he didn’t ever leave the room. It became an unspoken arrangement in which they would enjoy the quiet company, and once Bro started yawning Harley would pronounce it time for him to get some sleep.

It was one of those evenings when Bro decided to speak up on a whim. “Where did you get the grenade? Did you buy it online or somethin’?”

Brown eyes glanced up at Bro over square, wireframe glasses. The sound of the pen that had been scratching away at the notebook in Harley’s hands stopped. “The one by my desk? Good eye. No, I’m not much for the web.”

“So… You were, like, in the war?”

“Yes,” Harley set his pen between the pages and gently closed the book, placing it in his lap to give his full attention to the conversation. “Vietnam, 1955 to 1967.”

Bro did the math in his head. “Twelve years. Wow, impressive.”

“Twelve years service for a cause that in no way had any heart in it, might I add. Mince, war is. Only reason I kept the damn thing was an awful habit of sentimentality,” He spoke with a laugh unlike the deep, warm laugh with the ability to fill the room that Bro was starting to get used to. It was more melancholic than anything. “You’ll find the older you get, the more you like to hold onto experiences, even the worst ones. It’s a good reminder of what there still is to come.”

Any response the blonde could come up with seemed to fall flat. The genuineness of the older man’s answer caught him off guard and threw him off his game. He ended up covering up his lack of a reply with a solemn nod instead.

With his somewhat mute streak, Harley didn’t bat an eye at the silent nod. “Not to worry, though. It won’t be ticking any time soon. Rest assured.”

A smile graced his face once more and Bro watched while he opened his book back up with hands smoothing out the pages. The corners of his mouth had the beginnings of wrinkles creeping up on his warm russet skin, the same effect mimicked at the start of crow’s feet behind his glasses. Bro’s eyes lingered before returning to his book, but didn’t retain the words as well as before.

 

* * *

 

 Restlessness set in by the end of the second week. Bro was still never caught without a book nearby, even having migrated some into the bedroom, yet it did nothing for the itch that lay beneath the surface of his skin. Spending so much time on the road had left him with desperate yearning for a space just like the one offered by Harley’s cabin and now being trapped within the four walls awakened the deep-seated craving to be back in the midst of the trees. The fact that Harley came around one day hauling a quartet of quail over his shoulder didn’t help either. Bro had never thought of any dead animal as a particularly appealing sight until setting eyes on the limply hanging birds. His mouth watered at the idea of sinking his canines into one.

That’s about when he decided to ask Harley if he could go into town.

He knew that there was one nearby. There had to be, if the mention of a hospital and all the contextual clues were anything to go by. Harley had been good enough to let Bro borrow a set of severely oversized clothes for his first few days. After that there had been a sudden appearance of properly fitting clothes folded upon his bed after a shower. A few shirts, a pair of jeans, a thick flannel and a jacket. Nothing fancy but more than Bro had even packed in his long lost backpack. Obviously gramps was holding out on him here.

When it was brought up Harley didn’t exactly protest. It wasn’t so much an argument either. There was hesitance but there was no flat out refusal. Bro doubted if Harley really could refuse him anyways. If he wanted to, he could walk out the door whenever his little heart pleased and that would be the end of it. He knew Harley wouldn’t allow something like that to happen and would instead cut in and drive him up to whatever situationally non-descript outpost was lurking outside the thick of the forest. But the principle of it remained the same: Bro was a free man, within limitations of his own stupidity.

So, he got his way in way of an unplanned agreement. They would go into town at some point.

 

* * *

 

 A month passed without significance and without mention of the circumstance of their meeting. Talking got easier with each passing day. Dinners turned from an hour of quiet into louder, rambunctious affairs where Bro would give assistance to cooking to the best of his abilities and Harley would poke fun at him the entire time. Half of the evenings were spent with reading and writing while the other half were spent with Bro sprawled out across the couch with ears tuned into long, winding stories of staying in Machu Picchu in Peru or pit vipers in the Amazon Basin of Brazil. Finding out that adventure itched under Harley’s skin the same way that the call of the wild itched under Bro’s own was a comfort. A connection despite their seemingly different lives.

The mystery of Harley’s work was unveiled by accident through a very hasty entrance into the cabin, flurries flying into the warmth while Harley hollered. Two hours spent in the cold slowly chasing down a certain kind of small, fuzzy rodent that Bro couldn’t hope to remember the name of enlightened him on the true nature of Harley’s career. ‘Biologist with specialisation in mammalogy and herpetology’ the man had explained and gone into great detail, derailing several times to go off about things he had studied.

It was a relaxing kind of life to lead. Learning more about his housemate, leisurely spending his time how he pleased. The kind of thing he could get used to, he mused to himself one night while under the covers of the dark bedroom.

It finally struck him just how wrong that was.

Harley never asked. Bro never told. Nothing was ever said and nothing was ever resolved. Harley didn’t even know, for Christ’s sake!

The overwhelming dread that encompassed him was no stranger. It settled on him just like the snow outside, hefty and impenetrable. For the first time since he had arrived his sleep was uneasy and broken by the weight of the knot in his stomach. His thoughts ran endless circles around themselves in the way that he had concluded long ago that only a professionally signed prescription could ease and the longing for it made it all the worse. Missing Texas was out of the question but missing the medication that calmed the trembling that became bone deep? Absolutely.

He was an idiot for thinking he could keep using someone else’s kindness for so long. It wasn’t his house. It wasn’t his home. It wasn’t his life to live. He was running away, not getting attached to somewhere and someone he didn’t know and couldn’t trust. Obviously Harley knew that when he saved Bro. Harley was just doing it because he didn’t want Bro to die on his property, probably. The guy was keeping him around now because it would be too much work to get him to the town and see him safely off. If Harley found out about what he really was and why he was really out in the forest, he’d be hunted. He’d be shot exactly like one of those quails Harley had dragged in. Hung like the pelt on the fireplace. Set out for display. ‘Look boys, got ourselves a big one. Ain’t he a beaut?’ He’d become a prize to be marvelled at, or worse, a freak to be put under a microscope.

“Pancakes on the way, hope you’re hungry!” A cheery call from the kitchen greeted Bro when he pulled himself out of his room late that morning. The clatter of the frying pan and utensils scraped over his brain painfully and once more he cursed whatever invisible entity above that he didn’t have medication, at least pain killers.

“Yeah,” He said curtly.

He didn’t bother to check to see if Harley gave him any sort of look. He could feel it across his shoulders as he slouched down into his chair at the table and rubbed his palm over the side of his face. He’d barely gotten any sleep at all and yet it felt like sleep was clinging to him for dear life and dragging him down like gravity. Thinking about how he must’ve looked on the outside made him let out a soft groan. No one could look good on the outside when they felt so bad on the inside. Even the smell of the pancakes made his stomach flop.

Harley seemed to understand well enough and not tease like normal. One thing to be thankful for. “I could get out the hot cocoa if it’d please you, dear. A treat to cheer you up?” He spoke with a hopeful tone.

“No,” Bro stopped himself short as he second guessed his own tone. “Uh. Shit, sorry. No, thanks. Thanks.”

Something about the way he said it must have been unconvincing, maybe concerning. Definitely not his firm grasp on his calm and cool charade. It didn’t feel convincing to himself either. Under the table his fingers were curling into the pajamas pants he’d been given until his knuckles were surely white. No need to look when he knew from experience. There was no way he was about to get down any food and he already knew it, but saying it outloud would add a new level of rudeness to his already terrible record for the morning.

Or worse - Harley would think he’s sick again.

“Well… If you’re sure. Tea might be better if you’ve had a rough night’s sleep anyways. Nothing earl grey can’t fix!” The steady stream of soft chatter continued from the kitchen as the cooking continued, now mixed with the new arrival of the kettle being filled and placed to heat.

Everything felt amplified by ten thousand as Bro sat in his misery. It’d been over a month since his heart had raced so quickly as to fill his chest with each pulse. But he was okay. He’d dealt with the anxiety his whole life, that much he knew how to control. Deep breaths. Five seconds in, seven seconds out. The thoughtful breathing came along with the rise of his chest instead of his stomach as if it were second nature. His eyes weren’t really focusing on anything but the pattern of the wood that laced over the table top, and it was helping in it’s own way. Like trying to find faces in the popcorn ceilings back home.

Easy. Simple. Five… six… seven. One… two…

The hand on his back stopped the count in its tracks.

“Bro?”

His own name sounded strange, far away in the soft accent. So far, until it was just a high pitched ringing that drowned out all other thoughts. His lips moved without his permission, snapping his response in an octave above the normal. “What?”

“Look at me, boy. You’re breathing up a storm over here. Hey, no. Eyes here.” Harley’s words made him scrunch his nose up and turn away, only to be met with a hand on his jaw trying to gently guide him back.

The push on his skin pulled a shudder up from deep inside of Bro, fear flaring up at the attempt at authority over him. The next sound from his mouth he knew wasn’t right. Before it even reached the air, as it climbed its way up his throat like hands grasping and clutching their way forward, he knew it was wrong. The hands on him were wrong, and the skin sitting on his body was even worse. It was cold a top of heated and tense muscle, wound tight like a full body [snakebite](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_school_pranks#Chinese_Burn) where the hands just kept twisting until his skin was completely gone. Only then would he be able to breathe properly. It would relieve the sickness bubbling up in his stomach and make it possible to get away from the touch that felt so toxic.

The crunch that resonated through the air cut through the ringing and left everything deafeningly silent for the shortest of seconds. The floor collided with his shoulder in the most unceremonious fashion possible, the floor feeling freezing cold beneath his feverish skin. He didn’t notice the way his fingers dragged themselves bloody along the wood until it was met with the too loud scratching of claw upon hardwood. Flashes of hot and cold assaulted him. The need to cower and get away from it all grew and grew until it became unbearable, the pain spiking through the threshold that he could handle.

It felt like an eternity until a soft source of thought came back. He was alive. A breath came into new lungs, shaking but growing steadier with the second, then the third. There was an ache but it was dull, nothing more than a weak pulse of annoyance under his shoulder.

And… there was sound. A jerk of movement to his side.

“Bro…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo lets get this ball a rollin. lots of shit to go down obviously, sorry for the time skips there will probably be a few of those? 
> 
> thank you for the kudos and comments already u o u theyre much appreciated and always read!


	4. Chapter 4

“Bro…” The name was soft and incredulous sounding in Harley’s voice.

It didn’t take long for Bro to understand why.

His eyes opened slowly and drowsily in the wake of the transformation and the world came back into view all too clearly. Not to mention too brightly. The long plane of finished wood in front of his face made it easy to assume that he was on floor, and pairing that with the ache in his shoulder resulted in the obvious conclusion that he had fallen off of his chair. Had he fainted? It wouldn’t be the first time. No, if he had fainted he probably would have had someone hovering over him in the worrisome way that most humans reacted to such occurrences.

No, this wasn’t just fainting from an over the top anxiety attack. When he went to open his mouth to ask what had happened, he found the sound inhuman. Pure wolf. A low rumble of sound that vibrated through his vocal cords less familiarly than his own voice would have.

That’s all it took for him to scramble up, stumbling as the soreness of his shoulder made bringing up his upper half a struggle, his lower half proving just as hard. Sleep tingled through his back legs even as he stood and backed away. A whine emitted from him loud and fearful with his tail tucked right between his back legs. Harley stood in front of him and even as big as Bro was, Harley was taller, towering over Bro by a good few feet and looking massive from his view of things.

Harley was going to flip. Bro’s nerves were on the very brink while standing a couple of feet from the other, only a fallen chair and the remains of his clothes between them. Maybe he could have taken Harley in a one on one fight, but he didn’t want to. The idea of it made him even more scared than he had been. If front of him Harley’s eyes were wide behind his glasses and stuck on him, with something unreadable in them. There was no way Bro was able to read the guy’s plan of action or the situation, which only made his nerves that much worse. His muscles were all coiled and tensed harshly.

The first sign of movement from across the room made Bro back away a smidge more. Yet the movement wasn’t to come closer, or to run further away. Harley was taking care to cautiously, slowly crouch down low to the floor. One hand steadied himself with fingers and palm spread out on the hardwood, and the other was reached out to Bro, raised a few inches from the floor. The stance was a mimicking cry of how someone would approach a wounded animal. Bro had seen it more than a few times in the city when stray cats or dogs would be found causing trouble in backyards or back alleys. It should have been insulting, by all accounts, but the fact that they were nearly eye level with each other again was too much of a relief for him to register it as dehumanizing or humiliating.

Bro had no idea if he was supposed to do anything, so he didn’t. They stayed at a standstill. Nothing moved save for the dust swirling through the air, illuminated by the sun starting to brightly shine in the late hour of the morning. He could see Harley’s eyes watching him with that same patience he knew from his first week staying in the cabin. This was up to him. This was his decision; he got to decide the pace on his own terms.

The first step forward was the worst. His legs shook under him and his entire body shivered with his fur stood on end like it was. Each step felt like it took all the will power in the world, and his trust in himself weaned with the inches falling from between himself and Harley. His paw clumsily hit the chair that he attempted to step over and progress was halted for a long moment and yet Harley still stayed put. No jumps of surprise or even much of a flinch. Before he knew it, Bro didn’t have any more space to cross. His muzzle angled upward and his nose twitched with each little breath in of the elder’s scent. And… it was the scent he knew. A superficial level of flour and something fruity, and the underlying, comforting hearty notes of coffee, pine, and subtle hints of woodsy smoke.

Bro hardly realized that his nose was pressed right to Harley’s hand and wetly nosing over the flour leftover on his hand.

“Strider,” Harley said firmly. Not quite commanding but on the very edge of it.

The whine that followed from the wolf’s chest was pitiful even to his own ears. Weakness surged through him tangled in fear and resentment, a muddy mess of different colored yarns tossed carelessly together. He was convinced this was the end all, be all. This was what was going to fuck him over, and he still couldn’t bring himself to protect himself or fight.

Hands were on him and he was paralyzed. His claws made a light sound as they dragged across the floor, his body being pulled so effortlessly. Then there were arms around him - one behind him around his shoulders, and the other at his chest. A hand buried itself in the fur at the back of his neck and fingers grabbed the scruff.

Harley’s voice was quieter in the closer vicinity but still just as strong, resounding in Bro’s ears. “Head down. Deep breaths.”

Authoritative but laced with warmth. There was concern in the man’s voice as he held Bro like he hadn’t just warped into something deadly, like he was precious even after something for horrific. Instruction was given in such a sure, knowing way in order to break him from his panic. Comfort came in waves from the direct steps of knowing what to do. In, and out, taking in the deeply needed scent of home. The hand at his neck never wavered, not when he trembled, or shifted his paws, or even when he tried to hide himself against the man’s chest.

The same thing kept running through Bro’s mind.

Harley. Alpha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry that this update took so long, got stuck around the middle
> 
> way more to come! longer chapter next time! thank you v v much for all the feedback


	5. Chapter 5

The plans for the day were thrown out the window and forgotten. An hour alone was spent on the floor just calming down the thoroughly shaken wolf. Shifting without warning was dangerous in and of itself; Add the added stress of doing it front of an unaware bystander during the middle of a severe anxiety attack it became any werewolf’s worst nightmare. Bro had probably quite literally had a few nightmares about it in the many months since he had started shifting. It took many a firmly spoken, repeated affirmations to really convince the young wolf that it was in fact okay, and that nothing was going to happen to him. Harley didn’t have a hard time guessing what types of things to say in order to convince Bro that he wasn’t going to be skinned and hung up upon the mantle. 

But even with all the gentle handling and anxiety management, it didn’t do anything to help Bro shift back. When Harley rose from the floor and looked down at Bro, the creamy colored wolf looked back up with a look that said it all. He couldn’t, and didn’t really want to try yet. 

“Alright. That’s dandy, not a problem. We’ll just… call off work for the day, hm?” In the most casual manner possible for the situation at hand, Harley nodded to Bro. Or perhaps to himself at this point. “You still haven’t had breakfast and after that you bloody well need it.” 

As the man walked back into the kitchen to clean up the mess made and continue on with the everyday goings-ons Bro followed along behind him. The chair was returned upright and the clothes on the floor were checked over. Mostly salvageable, Harley declared and set to folding them nicely on the table for the time being. The kitchen was cleaned of it’s floury, sticky, messy state with leisurely care. 

It was halfway through that Bro decided that maybe it did smell good enough to check out. The small whiff of it on Harley’s hand early had hardly been what he would have called desirable, and the smell of it the few minutes before shifting hadn’t been what he wanted either. Now with his nose level to the smooth stone countertop and the reasonably sized stack of pancakes cooled down, his stomach was rumbling up a storm. There was no syrup or even sugar, from what he could tell, but he wanted them. God he really did the more he thought about it. His tongue left his mouth to lick over his muzzle in hungry anticipation. 

Just a little bit. He could manage that. With a confidence only held by the young and the inexperienced, he raised himself up the slightest bit on a stretch and opened his jaw to attempt a defty steal of the edge of a pancake. The clatter of the plate against the counter rang out, and before he knew it there was a sharp tap to his nose that brought him right back down to the floor.

“Hey! Beast or not, I won’t have you stealing morsels, boy.” He scolded with a smile barely concealed. “If you want something you’ll ask for it nicely.”

Exactly how he was going to manage to do that stumped Bro. He sat down at his place on the floor with his ears laid back and a low bark of sound let out into the kitchen. It sounded odd to his own ears but Harley seemed to hardly be able to hold in laughter at it. The plate in question was picked up from the counter and placed onto the floor in front of him with a pat to the side of his neck that almost had him jumping in surprise. Realistically, there should have been more thought put into this. Bro knew he couldn’t sit and be civilized with cutlery and a glass of juice, but this… was like giving the scraps to the hound, was it not? 

A wolf should be tearing into some sort of flesh after a riling chase through thick underbrush and dense trees. There should be a rush of adrenaline and endorphins to go along with a fresh kill. That’s how any other predator would go about it, and Harley said it himself. He was a beast. A lean, mean, deer killing machine. The thoughts swirled in a cocktail of nausea through his stomach. Nope. He’d take homemade pancakes on a plate anyday over even thinking about hunting on that day in particular. No primal instincts ran through his veins, only a deep need for comfort food, comfortable company, comfort everything. 

The sound of dishes being washed became a comfortable backdrop as Bro introduced his uneasy stomach to the plain breakfast. The day was wasting away and only continued to do so as Bro finished off licking his plate clean and resumed place right back at Harley’s side. It gained him a few little nudges and swats to his muzzle when he got in the way, but that was okay. Anything was okay as long as he was close enough that his shoulder brushed against the man’s pant leg. 

“Come on, ridiculous thing. Relax, give yourself room to breathe.” Harley gave a valiant effort to get Bro to stop while migrating into the living room. It didn’t work, but the try was acknowledged and somewhat appreciated. Not accepted, but appreciated. With Bro so close behind, Harley’s usual spot at his chair was going to be where he settled, but a quick glance to the mound of fur at his side made that decision change. Both of them took seat at the couch with some clumsy footwork on Bro’s part, until Harley was sat comfortably with a large book in his lap. Bro got himself arranged with his head on the man’s leg and his back paws hanging off the side of the couch due to his size. It was silent save for the reoccurring hush of pages turning and Bro’s own heavier breathing. The thought passes his mind that if he could, he might as Harley to read aloud. Even so, the absence of conversation made it all the more easier for the wolf’s eyes to come to a close and get lulled into a relaxed sleep. 

Waking up hours later was deja vu. No recollection of falling asleep, waking up in Harley’s bed underneath his blankets, and sore. A lot less sore than the first time, but still sore enough to make a difference. This time around there wasn’t the panic to go along with it once the blonde had sat up and rubbed his palms against his sleep-filled eyes some. It registered that he shifted back without even knowing it sometime during the nap, which wasn’t a feat he knew he was capable of. It certainly made things easier.

Bro didn’t bother with checking the time or checking his appearance once out of bed. A pair of flannel pyjama pants were tugged on and a blanket was draped over his shoulders along with a hasty hand ran through his hair, and that was seen as pulled together enough to leave the room. The trek to the living room was short but he found Harley precisely where he had left him last - sat on the couch with his book in his hands. Emerald met amber as the Irishman flicked his gaze upwards. A smile followed, and for the thousandth time Bro wondered how Harley managed to remain so unphased by anything.

“You’re looking well, sleepyhead.” He said.

Bro groaned. “If ‘well’ actually means ‘like shit’, don’t tell me. Did you carry me to bed?”

“Yes,” Harley admitted as he closed his book. “It was a dodgy effort but I didn’t think it right to have you sleep it off without being entirely comfy.”

“Uh, yeah. About that. ‘It.’ I should probably… explain some.” Skimming around the coffee table, Bro sheepishly sat himself down on the couch a respectable distance away from the other. There were certain things that he didn’t want to talk about, and if done right he was confident he could leave them out of the conversation entirely. No need to spill ALL his guts on the floor. 

“If you think so, love.” Harley’s voice held the patience and understanding that Bro had come to expect from him, but his eyes were lit up with more. The same kind of look he gave the subjects of his research when they were exceptionally interesting. 

If it was anyone else but Harley giving him that look he would have been petrified. 

A deep breath was taken and let out through his nose. “Ok, so… Shit. Where do I even start? I guess it probably started a long time ago, but I’d say it started this summer. Right before summer, maybe. Dunno the exact date, sometime around then. I was walkin’ home along the road just like any other day and it just kinda hit me. Like today, only without the freak out beforehand. One minute I was there and next I was layin’ on the side of the road sticking out like a fish out of water. Don’t exactly see many wolves in Texas, do ya? After that I got scared and I left.”

“You left?” Harley cut in with a puzzled expression on his face.

“Yeah, I left,” He started to tread more carefully. “Packed a bag and thumbed it on the highway. I got pretty far, obviously. I’ll tell ya what though, winter sucks. Snow? Gnarly stuff. Even my best kicks didn’t survive here for more than a week. I didn’t have no money and couldn’t stay the nights anywhere. It was freezin’, I was at a diner somewhere n’ I thought I was gonna die. I didn’t wanna but it’s warmer when I’m… y’know. I dunno when I changed back but I blacked out then woke up here.” The conclusion finished with a noncommittal shrug of his shoulders.

There was a pregnant pause that stretched on too long for comfort. Like the moment before missing a step on a staircase, or falling from a great height. 

“You’re telling me… you ran away from home?” 

“Yes.” Bro said, sounding much more confident in the answer than he thought he would.

“I-” For the first time since Bro had gotten there, Harley seemed genuinely flustered by the reveal. “What? Bro! What about your family? They must be worried sick, and to think I’ve been keeping you here! You should at least call, or write-”

“It’s fine.” Bro cut in.

“Fine?”

“Yeah. Fine. I don’t need to contact anyone or nothin’. No one’s gonna be lookin’ so you don’t have to worry about it.” The detachment in his voice was crystal clear, even as he tried to remain normal around the topic.

Saying anything more would lead to an entirely different conversation. Explaining about the lycanthropy was a courtesy, something he definitely owned the older man seeing how early he had passed out and turned into a wolf in his kitchen. But anything further than that, he had no obligation to tell him. Harley looked worried and that made sense. He probably thought he would have cops and parents coming after his ass for kidnapping their runaway seventeen year old and hiding him in the woods. Not exactly a good spot to be in. It wouldn’t happen though. His file would remain collecting dust on a social worker’s desk while he aged out of the system entirely.

“Nonsense. That can’t be. You just said, you were walking home the first time you up and grew that tail of yours. There must be someone there would notice your absence?” Harley pushed again, only to receive a shake of his head, a silent ‘no’ from Bro. “Well… Were they…?” 

It was Bro’s turn to be confused now. Was who what? Parents? Legal guardians? Were they around? No. Were they actively taking care of him? No. If there was food in the fridge then the caretakers were content to call it a day. 

Bringing it up now seemed so pointless. He wasn’t there anymore, he had found a much, much better place to call home. If Harley let him, he would have stayed at the cabin indefinitely. It worked, it made him happy, and he had thought that it was making Harley happy to have him around as well. That could have been a sour mistake on his part depending on how things continued along. He could downright risk it all just by slipping up here. If Harley kept pushing for answers, he would only get more and more antsy and worried without an explanation. On the other hand, if Bro fessed up it would be turmoil on his emotional state to try and talk about it in any resemblance of detail. A small voice in his head said maybe he was overthinking this and it wasn’t all that difficult at all, but the worrying overpowered that voice of reason easily. It always felt like everything was hanging precariously in the balance and about to fall, ruining everything. He could tell he was talking too much time to answer and the green eyes he was growing so fond of were boring into him.

“I’m not…” The teenager’s next breath shuddered through him. His eyes turned down to his lap where his hands were wringing around each other. While he didn’t dare to look up, it wasn’t hard to hear Harley’s soft sigh of pity. And he hadn’t even said it yet. “There’s no one. No one’s gonna look, because no one cares. I don’t have parents. My social workers didn’t know my name. I don’t got any friends there. I’ll be 18 next year and my record with them will be… buried somewhere. Shredded maybe. Hopefully. I won’t be trouble for you, I promise.”

The words sank into the air of the room and stilled. The fact simmered there in front of them both awaiting some kind of reaction. Bro was counting on pity. It was usually pity. So many a time in his life had he had to see the sad eyes of strangers look upon him and hope he would ‘do well in life’ or ‘make a life for himself’. That was preferable to anger though. Getting kicked out after all this shit would suck. All because he ran away from a home he never had to begin with.

“Hm. We’ll have to make some arrangements then, won’t we?” Harley’s voice sounded contemplative beside Bro. 

“Yeah… Yeah, okay. I can find somewhere, if you can drive me. I don’t really know the way to the town so.” Of course. Disappointment never stopped tasting bitter. Lemon juice and black pepper straight to the tip of his tongue each time. 

“Pardon? I would think not.”

A hand sat heavy on Bro’s back suddenly. His raised his eyes with his light brows pulled tight with confusion that had the potential to grow into more. He wouldn’t even drive him somewhere to get another lift? 

“You’ll stay here, obviously. I was going to mention it later but since we’re on topic of it now, I’d like to say I do miss my bed quite dearly. If you’re going to be living here you’ll need some space of your own, don’t you think? The couch surely won’t do for either of us for too long, especially if you’re going to be dogging it up on the regular! Hardly fit the bill on that one. No, no, you’ll need a bed of your own. Maybe an extension to the house... “ Harley continued to go on about possible renovations to the cabin, but Bro’s attention was shot out of the water.

Another wave of deja vu crashed over Bro and left him slightly breathless, completely at a loss for words. Once more there was no doubt in Harley’s decision. It didn’t even seem like there was a debate at all. He wanted Bro to stay enough that he was thinking of building him his own room. That was incomprehensible to the blonde who still sat staring at the elder. The hand on his back seemed to weight a hundred pounds and the lump in his throat was about the size of a softball. He felt the tears well up before he saw them blurr and block out most of his vision. Waterworks were the worst.

“I can stay?” He said with a fragile wobble to his voice. His hands came up to try and get the tears to leave him alone.

“Bless your little heart,” Harley’s voice had the lilt of the beginnings of a laugh caught in each warm word. “I wouldn’t have you anywhere else.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woooo ive done the impossible and actually finished /two/ chapters within these last few days, both longer and more interesting imo
> 
> hope you guys are liking it, there will be another chapter up super soon. maybe tomorrow


	6. Chapter 6

Time passed slowly, day after day, settling into a strange new understanding of the world. It was odd to get used to sharing a secret that once used to violently torment at all waking hours, and even some non-waking ones. Trying to get used to putting trust in both himself and in someone else was a slow process for Bro. After the first, accident turn in front of Harley, he had avoided it again for some time. It was still discussed on and off again. Harley was a never ending source of curiosity when it came to the subject. At first questions were posed cautiously as if toying with where the line between curious and rude was supposed to be drawn. Only after an exasperated rant about the amount of fucks Bro couldn’t care to give about what words Harley used for his biology and what questions he asked did the pretenses of politeness drop. More than a handful of afternoons were spent going over aspects of the blonde’s lycanthropy in the most extensive detail possible. For Harley’s sake, since the man listened with so much unfaltering intensity.

With his permanent residency set in stone there had been an arrangement made up for Bro within the cabin. The main bedroom was once more given to its rightful owner and a room was set up to become Bro’s room. While it was technically a room meant for storage purposes, the younger man had insisted that he was fine with it. He ‘didn’t need much room, anyways.’ It was small, but it was comfortable. A bed with his own sheets and his favorite blankets transferred over from Harley’s room, a smaller dresser to hold is ever growing collection of clothes and belongings, and eventually a few knick-knacks and books of his own to keep. 

Christmas was a new, but exciting experience with the woodsman. Instead of the customary fake, plastic-y smelling Christmas trees from department stores that Bro was used to, he was taken along into the woods to choose ‘the perfect beaut’, as Harley had so cheerfully called the pine that they spent a day chopping down and bringing into the living room of the cabin. If he had to choose a favorite part of the holiday, Bro would have picked the unveiling of several ancient looking boxes stuffed to the brim with ornaments and decor, which were leisurely set about the tree until it looked like it had tinsel and glass orbs thrown up onto it in disarray. None of the suburban cookie cutter preciseness. The morning of was all lazy breakfast and hot cocoa in front of the fire while the two did their small gift exchange. A new, wool-lined jacket for Bro and a brigade of not-too-shabby homemade pastries for Harley that Bro thought paled in comparison. Yet half were gone within the day - a victory in the younger man’s eyes. 

The frosty mornings, bitingly chilly afternoons, and nights filled with sharp blizzard winds all passed. Spring came in suddenly, and winter’s absence left the forest in a sludgy state. Their front door harboured the worst of it, by far. Harley’s Jeep made an absolute swamp of mud in front of the cabin each time it came across the grounds and made it unbearable to wade through without rubber swampers. 

It was that spring when Bro truly started to settle properly into his skin. Rain was tangible in the air, through both smell and water droplets covering every outdoor expanse. Wildlife could finally start to be heard; birds of every kind, the subtle sound of far off predators deep in the woods, the rustle of underbrush filled with new hares and rodents. The call of the wild was a beautiful song in his yearning ears. One afternoon, standing on the porch with rainfall drizzling overhead, the teen had carefully pulled off his t-shirt and jeans and left them hanging on the wooden railing. His sneakers were untied and set by the chair near the door with his socks tucked neatly inside. The feeling of the mud beneath his feet as he stepped out was cold but right. He had tipped his face up, taken it all in as the woods stood in comfortable, quiet ambiance around him. 

And it didn’t hurt. 

Confidence and a sense of control replaced all hints of fear. Condensation hung on his fur and wet earth caked slightly to his paws with each step, each trot, each sprint into the flowering green scenery. For the first time his heightened senses were put to use to pick up those underlying sounds of fauna rustling leaves and breaking twigs beneath little paws. Ears swiveled to pick up each distinct sound, hungry to take it all in. There was no uncertainty stuck to the back of his mind and no overbearing fear that he’d be caught. He couldn’t be caught. This was right. He belonged here; apex predator, local inhabitant. 

That night when Harley came home, it was to a once full-white wolf relaxing on his porch with a muddy muzzle rested on equally dirty paws. A half-second of concern was all there was room for before it’s ears perked a top it’s head and it barreled straight for the man and crashed into him, toppling them both over into the mud. 

From that day on it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. It was a learning experience, for them both. Bro was still clumsy and somewhat uncoordinated, even with instinct playing on his side. Shifting wasn’t always easy either. Surprise shifts didn’t happen nearly as much, but turning back proved difficult on more than a few occasions. Upon the suggestion from Harley, Bro started to join in on some work days. Not doing work, per say, but taking the ride there in the Jeep and keeping his clothes in the designated ranger stations that Harley used before spending his day in the woods. Hunting proved harder than any animal had ever made it look. The first time he’d actually met back with Harley with blood covering his neck and hands, he ended up having a laugh attack as the older man clutched at his heart in surprise. The man was trying through. Having a wolf constantly around wasn’t the easiest thing to become accustomed to. Especially not when it was in your house, at waist height, nudging at your hands and big enough to steal food off the counter with ease. 

Nothing was without its flaws, but nothing could ever truly spoil it. Not small arguments over this or that little thing, or late teenage hormones resulting in slammed doors and the silent treatment. Nor thunderstorms shaking the whole house after hot, muggy summer days that made it so Bro spent the night curled in a strong pair of arms, whispered reassurances the only thing keeping him calm. Each little hiccup was met with an equal amount of good experiences in its wake. 

Before he knew it, a year had flown by. Autumn had painted the forest in bloody reds and burnt oranges amount the dark evergreens, leaves falling in any any color on the spectrum from purple to bright yellow. The seasons changed and soon enough winter was at their doorstep with freshly fallen snow covering piles of dead leaves and twigs. Fresh firewood was collected, chopped and stacked along the side of the cabin for the upcoming months. Food from the tiny town miles down the road was stored just in case, for those times when even the Jeep wouldn’t traverse the thickly laid levels of snow, or it was too cold to risk even venturing out safely. Bro noticed with each change the thickness of his fur getting heavier and heavier in preparation for needing the warmth. In particular he noticed how Harley seemed to like running his hands through the softer, thicker coat that developed underneath the slightly more coarse outer layer. It was almost something Bro looked forward to - like the nights spent chatting or hanging out by the fire, only now it was with the new addition of being laid on the floor near the man’s slippers and the warmth of the fire closer to his face, or, if he got gutsy, curled up on the couch against the man’s thigh with an arm resting over his back and a hand petting deep in his fur. 

It was irresistibly comfortable. It was like a guilty pleasure that left Bro giddy even hours after when he laid in his bed with just one little wall between himself and Harley. The affection was a constant between them. Always with a hand in his fur, atop his head, scratching lightly behind his ears, and even when he wasn’t shifted. It had gone from a cautious knowledge of each other to a closeness that Bro didn’t know he had needed. Years of being touch-starved had crashed around him when Harley first started to be more lenient with friendly gestures. An arm around his shoulders, or a firm, almost too hard pat on the back had left Bro wide-eyed and shocked at first. Now, it was commonplace. Expected, wanted even. A hand on Bro’s back to lead him was a stability that he grew used to. Grabbing onto Harley’s hand or wrist to excitedly pull him along in stores or deep within the forest was done by second nature, without thought. It even went so far as lighter touches once or twice. Once within the local doctor’s office as they spoke about the option of medication to regulate Bro’s anxiety. The blonde had looked like a deer caught in the headlights with teary eyes sitting on the examination table. A brief, but soft brush of Harley’s hand over his cheek had almost made it worth it to make it back to the Jeep before really freaking out. Another time when they’d been out together on a day of work, Bro tagging along to help with carrying equipment. A long waited, months-long research project came up with an apparently important new discovery that made it impossible for Harley to contain his excitement. Both his hands had ended up cupping the young blonde’s face, a smile a mile wide across his face as he exclaimed excited about it, pulling Bro in for a long, tight hug. 

He thought about that one a lot… A lot. But that was normal, right? 

Bro remained oblivious to his crush for an embarrassingly long time. When he did realize it, there wasn’t much he could do. Not at the time, at least. Pining from afar didn’t prove difficult or different from what he had been doing, other than a few more instances of blushing that Harley graciously laughed off each time. It wasn’t like he could profess his newly found undying love for the guy that he was stuck in the same house with. That could possibly end in utter disaster. The only experience Bro even had romantically was elementary school crushes, a short lived girlfriend online at the age of fourteen, and a hasty make-out slash feel-up outside of a garage with a guy that he had been having jerk off fantasies about for months before saying anything to him. It was a doomed idea before he had even conceived it. If he was going to do this, he was going to have to do it right. 

December third came around like any other day. Breakfast early in the morning, Harley setting off to work and Bro going back to bed for at least another hour before actually doing anything good with his time. Chores came first with light cleaning and prepping for dinner like Harley had taught him, then some bread baking through the afternoon with the house smelling heavenly and the temperature kept warm. Dinner was filled with chatter about work, the weather, books they’d read recently, gossip from town. Everything and anything, except one thing in particular. 

Bro had waited until the table was clear and the washing up was done. His housemate was running a washcloth over the table while going on about a trip he was hoping to take to somewhere further out north for some shopping and well-needed items for repair around the cabin. The blonde wasn’t really paying as much attention as he should, too busy wondering how to word what he wanted to say. Best to just be as blunt about it as he could. That usually worked in his favor. 

“It’s my birthday today,” he said loud enough to interrupt Harley during a lull in his talking.

The older man audibly gasped where he stood. The cloth was dropped onto the table while he turned with dark eyebrows raised up closer to his hairline. 

“What?! Happy birthday, dear boy! Oh, drats! You should have said something sooner. We could have done up something much more fitting. And you’re eighteen! I ought to have gotten you your first bevvy!” Even as Harley burst into a smile and reached out to give Bro’s shoulder a hearty pat, he shook his head in slight reprimand. 

The flush to Bro’s cheeks was starting much earlier than he had expected. Having someone so excited to celebrate him was a first for his birthday. All the ones before had been pretty underwhelming, yet Harley’s reaction would have have been enough of a present on it’s own. That is, if he didn’t have other plans in mind. “It’s okay! Really, don’t lose your mind over it man. I’ll live without a cake n’ ice cream.”

“Rubbish! There must be something you want. I tell you what, we’ll go up to shop soon and you can pick anything you want. Tomorrow even.” Harley offered.

“Well… there’s one thing I want. But you ain’t gonna be able to buy it for me,” he said, his blush growing more at the high of his cheekbones. 

“Anything,” the man declared confidently.

Bro took in a deep breath, letting it out through his lips as he built up the courage. It wasn’t that hard. A few little words, maybe even less if he really wanted to be to the point about it. Yet it felt so damn hard to get them past the lump in his throat and his tongue felt like it had swelled ten times bigger in the last few seconds. When he spoke his words felt too heavy to bare. “I want a kiss.”

The first reaction was a small head tilt and eyebrows knitted together in an expression somewhere between surprise and confusion on Harley’s face. A flash of pink showed as he ran his tongue over his lip in thought. 

“You don’t have to! I know, it’s not probably ideal. You’re probably straight, everyone’s always straight. But I mean- I’m eighteen now right? And if you think I’m old enough to have a drink then I’m definitely old enough to decide who I do and don’t want to be kissin’. It doesn’t even have to be a thing. We could just forget I even said anything, if you want. I’m chill. It wouldn’t hurt if you turned me down or nothin’.” Words tumbled out of Bro’s mouth like water down a waterfall after a spring flood. Uncertainty grew with each word, as did the speed at which he tried to say them. 

Hearing a laugh from Harley finally stopped him. 

“What?” Bro asked, a little more defensively. “What’s funny?” 

“Nothing, Bro. Lower the firing gun. I’m not laughing at you.” Harley smiled that slightly infuriating ‘I’m wise and I know all’ smile as he leaned back against the table, resting one hand back on it. “If you want a kiss, then you can have a kiss. You’re a grown man now and I agree. You know what you want, lad.” 

“I… Yeah. Duh. Of course I do.” Bro fumbled with his hands, hooking his thumbs around the beltloops of his jeans. 

“Would you like it now? Or is this a belated nip for some other time?” Amusement filled the older man’s words. 

“Now,” Bro answered too quickly. “Uh, please. Not later.”

Another laugh joined Harley’s next exhale, light and airy and benevolent in nature. Thankfully he took the initiative and the few short steps needed to cross the space between them, until he was standing right in front Bro. A hand came up with fingers poised under Bro’s jaw to tilt his head up. Even if the teen-turned-newly adult was trying his very best to keep himself calm he was sure Harley would be able to feel how he was pretty much shaking from head to toe with anticipation. The fact that it was even happening at all was enough to blow his mind, but seeing Harley up so close just barely an inch from his face made him pretty damn sure his heart had actually stopped for the remaining seconds before he felt soft lips brush against his own. 

When it started back up it was going double time. The man before him had started with a ghost of a touch, and slowly eased into a firm press of his lips against Bro’s. In the time it took Bro’s eyes had fluttered closed. The hands that he once had no idea what to do with were now grabbing for purchase at either side of Harley’s shirt to close the small distance left between them so there was no space left. Everything stood still for Bro. For once, he forced himself not to worry about what he was doing even if it was so new and absolutely terrifying. Because somehow, it wasn’t. Like stepping out into the forest on that rainy spring day, he knew it was okay. Harley’s thumb sliding along his jaw and the pressure against his lips was how it should be. Nothing more, nothing less. He would have been okay with staying that way for hours. 

Unfortunately that wasn’t realistic. Harley did end up pulling back just enough to look over Bro’s face with those warm, brilliant green eyes. 

“How was that?” He asked in one of the softest, most playful and excruciatingly attractive tones Bro had ever heard.

“So good,” Bro breathed out quietly as he opened his eyes.

The hand under Bro’s chin gently traced down to rest against the side of his neck instead and a smile graced Harley’s lips. “There’s always more where that came from.”

Amber eyes stared up at him wide and unbelieving. Harley had not only agreed to one kiss, but was offering more. He felt dizzy with the opportunity opened up in front of him. He could have this again if he wanted, with one little ‘yes’. It would be that easy to push the affection that much further and be that much closer to his crush. His housemate, his crush, the man he was spending his life with at this point. There was no way he wanted to rush this, but if Harley was offering… If Harley really had just kissed him like that and was still in the midst of holding him so tenderly like he was… he must at least like him back. Bro was inexperience but he wasn’t stupid.

He moved his hands from Harley’s shirt so he could wrap both arms around his middle instead, leaning forward so his chin rested on the man’s shoulder. “Yes, please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sweet blushing southern bell baby teen bro is slightly out of character but also? who cares, look at him. and woo their first kiss!
> 
> the next chapter may take a few days and may be slightly longer ;) as always kudos and comments are appreciated as hell <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nsfw mentions in this one but not quuuite graphic nsfw yet (maybe next chapter, definitely soon)

“Can I sleep in your bed?”

The words were quiet above the small popping and crackling of the kindle in the fireplace. Fat raindrops hit the windowpanes in the kitchen and slid down slow and lazy, just like how the dark storm clouds overhead went by. It had been pouring rain half of the entire month so far and the day’s downpour was no different. May showers had always seemed like a myth, but now they were a fact of life like any other, meaning that staying the day in the cozy warmth of the cabin was of no bother to either the woodsman or the wolfman who resided with him.

A wolfman who, at the time, was laid back against the arm of the couch with his legs stretched out across his companion’s lap. It had been a rather uneventful day so far with how both men were dragged down restlessly by the weather. Bro’s instinct tugged on him to /go/. Run out into the irresistible smell of the soil and the rain and only return when he had had his fill of it. But the lingering symptoms of anxieties and old fears counteracted it enough for him to stay on two legs and keep as close as possible to his housemate, as each crack of thunder made him jump with nerves. Harley didn’t complain or comment on it aside from a few soft remarks about how there was nothing to worry about, or to go about with his silly game of counting the time between flashes of light through the windows and the sound it made. ‘Ten seconds means ten miles away. Much to far away to hurt you.’ Foolish, in Bro’s eyes, but still endearing enough for him to try and believe it. 

Sometimes it was still hard to believe how things were. Ever since his birthday things had slightly turned and morphed into a different kind of familiarity between the two. At first it had been with reluctant touches. Still friendly but slowly gaining a much more present air of affection. Harley would hesitate on putting his arm around Bro’s shoulders and instead settle his arm lower on his back or on his waist instead. Bro would catch Harley’s wrist on his way out for work in the morning and the usual ‘goodbye’ or ‘good luck’ would be replaced with a kiss on his cheek, or to the edge of his lips. They still skimmed around the topic of what exactly they were or what they wanted to grow into, but Bro figured that was okay. There was no need to push or rush when he was already happy enough to get even the lightest of affections from the other.

Only a few times had it ever passed the boundary between soft shows of affection and more heavy petting. Bro had and would again take responsibility for the first time it had happened. He knew spending days out in the forest with claws sunk into dirt and teeth sunk into muscle tissue always left him full of restless energy and an almost electric tingle vibrating under his skin for hours after the fact. There was nothing Harley did to initiate anything or than lean across the couch to give the blonde the lightest of kisses to stop his incessant, hyperactive babbling for the shortest of seconds. It was the feeling of his lips, the smile on his face afterwards, the sparkle in his eyes that stayed ever present and enticing as hell that did it. Bro’s hands held just under the man’s ears at the edge of his jaw and pulled him back into it. It was the first real taste of the older man’s tongue against his own and it flooded him with unexpected arousal. In a frenzy of adrenaline and courage he found himself straddling the man’s lap and kissing him for far longer than either expected. It was cut short abruptly when his arousal made itself known with a light brush of the front of his jeans against Harley’s stomach. Thoroughly spooked and embarrassed, Bro quickly apologized and excused himself. He hardly made it to his room before his fly was undone.

The times after that were pre-dated by a small and equally embarrassing chat that Harley had with him about how it was okay, and he didn’t have any need to be so ashamed of getting excited. It helped some but it didn’t entirely shake off the mortification of just how easily excitable he was. 

Yet Harley was patient as ever with him each time.

 

Even with the small escalation of things, they still had yet to really move past anything more than make out sessions and equally satisfying cuddle sessions. When Bro asked to sleep with the other it had taken hours of rehearsal of the question over and over in his head. He had slept in Harley’s room before and had fallen asleep with him on the couch too many times to count, but actually sleeping with him, in his room… It somehow seemed like a bigger step than either of those things were. 

“I was under the idea that you had one of your own, darling.” Harley quipped from where he sat without so much as a glance up from what he was writing. 

“I do!” Bro scoffed in mock annoyance and pushed one of his socked feet against Harley’s thigh. It gained him an amused smirk from the Irishman. “I meant in your bed, with you.”

That clarification seemed to be deemed worthy of a flicker up of the emerald eyes sitting across from him. They stayed on him as the gears in Harley’s head worked over the question posed. Bro knew better than to be too nervous about it. If he said no then nothing would change. It wouldn’t be a refusal of him, or any indication of wanting him. Bro knew enough of how the other felt to know that wouldn’t be the case. It was what would happen if he said yes that left Bro hanging for the answer.

“You’re nervous to sleep because of the storm.” Harley stated the fact instead of asking it as a question. Bro nodded anyways. “If it would make you feel better, I see no harm in it.

“I suppose it’s getting late. Go on, I’ll meet you there.” The man closed his notebook and took care to raise Bro’s legs up off his lap before standing. A stretch of his back resulted in a small series of cracks before he was moving to put out the fire for the evening. 

Walking down the hall and taking the turn into the master bedroom instead of his own was almost odd. It had been awhile since he’d taken up residence in the room. He’d been in there lots of times, of course, whether to put away laundry or to converse with the other, or whatever other reason. It wasn’t anything new, per se. Yet it was. With the door left open Bro could still hear the other man out in the living room putting out the fire as he himself pondered what to do. He could always go get pajamas from his own room then come back, but Harley had said to meet him there. Was he expected to sleep in his boxers? He wasn’t opposed to it, but the idea left a small whispering thought in the back of his head that maybe that was implying something else. There hadn’t been any implication of that though, so he supposed it didn’t really matter either way. Whether he wore pajama pants or not, it wouldn’t really make a difference if that /was/ what was implied. 

Bro was in the midst of getting his jeans off with his shirt already discarded when Harley walked into the room. His heart might’ve skipped a small beat upon seeing him but the man didn’t seem at all surprised or phased. His eyes didn’t even linger on Bro for more than a second as he passed to go about his own nightly routine, to Bro’s relief. Even if he knew he was comfortable with the other man, his nerves had other ideas of their own.

“Any preference on which side of the bed you take?”

Bro looked up once his jeans were off and was met with the expanse of Harley’s back turned to him. The bareness of his warm russet skin shocked him upon first look. Then the soft pink patches of color caught his eye and easily distracted him from the question. It shouldn’t have surprised him to see the scars that littered the man’s skin. He knew he had a history that warranted such things, but it still seemed so odd to see scars laced upon someone’s skin other than his own. 

They were different from his own, though. While the younger’s skin was adorned with long, thin traces of raised skin from slices of steel, Harley’s were all varying in shape and size. Some he could easily identify as burns; the texture of them was almost unmistakeable. The rest he could only guess as gunshot, or possibly something else. The impulse to feel over them and figure out their cause was at the forefront of his mind when his train of thought was interrupted by Harley turning.

“Bro?” He asked with a lilt of curiosity in his voice.

“Yeah, sorry. I like closer to the window.” The answer was still slightly clouded by his distracted thoughts.

A nod from the other came as confirmation and then Harley was disappearing across the hall to the bathroom. Bro let out a small breath and set his jeans along with his shirt out of the way of anything. Climbing into the bed didn’t feel any different than it did the times he used to the year before. Everything about the situation was different, but the bed was the same. The sheets still just as soft and the blankets all smelling distinctly of the house and of Harley. A scent he subconsciously equated to safety and comfort. Without thinking of how ridiculous it probably looked, he laid down face first with his nose pressed into one of the two pillows, drinking in the scent and letting it soothe him down to his core. 

He stayed that way until the sound of a chuckle came from the doorway and had him looking up. Harley was in a pair of his own night pants and still shirtless, coming over to the bed from the opposite side. “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?” Bro raised himself up onto his elbows.

“Wolf-ing. I’ve come to think you don’t notice it, but you do it more often these days.” Harley said with an air of amusement.

Bro made a face. “Wolf-ing? The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Harley started to explain while pulling the blankets back. “That your instincts crossover. Or so it seems. I’ve picked up on it here and there, but never thought too much of it. You never used to but nowadays I’ll catch you waiting for me to eat first, or tilting your head up as if you can catch scents better if you do. I swear sometimes I can almost see those bloody ears atop your head even when you’re like this.” 

The words made Bro blink in surprise as he processed the information given him. He’d been right about Bro never noticing it before. Even when thinking back, he couldn’t really say for sure if he did either of those things. If he did, they were second nature to him. Like putting one foot in front of the other to walk straight. He knew there were things that he did as a wolf that he didn’t think about and just did, because they were right. But as a human, he never thought he did.

“Huh,” He summed up his feelings in one word.

“Not a bad thing.” Harley smiled as he laid down on his back and got under the covers. 

Bro followed suit with getting under the covers and took his time with getting comfortable. He wasn’t sure if it would be seen as rude, but at first he tried to lay on his side facing the window how he usually liked to. Watching the snow or the rain or the trees sway in the window outside usually helped him get to sleep easier. It was a good natural ambience that calmed him down easily. The rain that was still coming down in thick sheets was a little too harsh for his tastes but it was neither this way or that. Across the bed, Harley shifted and the room was plunged into darkness at the small click of the bedside lamp being turned off. For a long time the only sounds were the rain, the distant reminder of the storm, and two sets of breath. In the semi-quietness of the bedroom Bro remained awake for an indeterminate amount of time. Enough for the breaths of his bedmate to slow into the deep, relaxed rhythm that came along with sleep. It was an odd addition to the collection of sounds that Bro was used to but he couldn’t say that it was necessarily unwelcomed. 

The far off rolls of thunder and fat drops of rain upon the glass of the window finally started to lull Bro down into a doze after what felt like hours of laying awake, and for a while he hung in the balance between asleep and awake. He must have fallen asleep though, as he was startled awake when a crack of thunder followed a flash of lightning, loud enough to shake through the foundation of the cabin. It had him nearly bolting up from the bed, an arm flying to the other side of the bed and fumbling to grasp onto his sleeping counterpart’s arm. 

A sleepy grunt came from Harley through the darkness of the room. Not annoyed but certainly proturbed from his rest. Maybe Bro would have felt bad about it if not for the slight shaking in his shoulders and legs brought on by fear from the deafening sound overhead. The rain was still coming down heavily and pelting the roof and windows, and Bro’s ears rung with the promise of more thunder on it’s way. 

“Bro…” A murmur of his name had his head whipping around to Harley’s side even though it was impossible to see past his nose in the darkness. When he couldn’t get a sound past the lump of anxiety in his throat, the response he got in return was a hand coming to rest over the one that was latched onto Harley’s arm. “Come here.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Within seconds he had himself pressed up against the other’s side with his face buried into his shoulder. The skin against his own felt so much warmer than his own, and the scent that surrounded him was so much stronger than the one that merely lingered on the pillow and blankets. With his nose tucked right against Harley’s collarbone the spice and smoke filled his head. Paired with the arm that came around him to rest a hand on his back, in between his shoulder blades, it made it easier to breathe. 

“You’re okay,” The reassurance came in a mumbled whisper when the next roll of thunder crashed around them and sent Bro jumping against the other. Even if it was silly, in his head Bro started counting the seconds until the next time. 

 

Blinking against the onslaught of morning sun, Bro woke with his cheek resting against soft, warm skin. One of his legs was wrapped around one of Harley’s under the blanket, and the man was equally sprawled out half under Bro. If he were less tired he surely would have blushed at the realization. Instead, he let his eyes close again and gladly drifted back until he would be forced awake again by Harley’s responsibilities. 

Another hour of sleep proved to be worth the while, and when the shifting underneath him started, Bro willingly moved to let the man escape. If Bro didn’t know better, it kind of seemed like there was a hesitance in the way the mattress dipped and how the other moved to get up. He didn’t bother to get up. He contented himself with listening to how Harley quietly moved around the room to get ready under the pretense that the blonde was still asleep and needed the room to be quiet. There were footsteps as he went across the hall and back, and Bro was sure that he’d maybe leave a note and then head out for work, as per usual. The creak of the floorboards that came around to his side of the bed instead made him tense slightly under the covers. The brush of his bangs out of his eyes was soft and the feather light kiss that was placed onto his forehead was even softer, leaving Bro with his breath caught in his throat as the footsteps receded down the hall.

* * *

 

Later that evening it was proclaimed time for bed after a few rounds of cards when Bro had to be reminded twice that it was his turn to draw a card. The deck was left on the coffee table and the fire was doused to soot and embers. The weather had went from light, sunny showers in the morning to a clear sky throughout the rest of the day which left Bro with a bittersweet taste in his mouth. He dragged himself down the hall with Harley a few steps in front of him and startled when Harley stopped suddenly in front of him near the bedroom door. Bro looked to him in confusion but when their gazes met each other it switched quickly. An unspoken question was laid out in front of him in Harley’s expression. It was a silent offer that Bro understood all too quickly. Bro didn’t say anything, and neither did Harley as he walked past him into the elder’s bedroom again.


End file.
